


Tell Me a Story

by gaydepresso



Category: Runaways (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/F, chase and alex are kinda assholes in this, idk it's gay, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydepresso/pseuds/gaydepresso
Summary: Basically the gist of it is: Karolina and Chase are best friends, they talk about Nico, then Karolina and Nico make out and sort of talk about their feels.





	Tell Me a Story

“Nico thinks you’re cute.” 

I peer over, not believing, poking him when he leans away, saying, “Dude, lemme see,” as I grab for his phone.

“Gimme a second okay,” he says, laughing, taking a picture of me to send to her. 

“Chase, you fucker, why are you like this?” When he doesn’t respond, I prod him with my foot, rolling my eyes, saying, “You know I know she wouldn’t say that, right? She likes Alex remember?”

“She’s bi.” 

“Yes, thank you, you say that as if I didn’t already know.”

Tossing his phone aside, he stares at me for a few moments before starting, saying whilst trying to catch my eye, pulling at the coarse grass, “So… how do you feel? How much do you hate Alex? C’mon, tell me. Chase is here for you.” 

“How do you think I feel?” Meeting his gaze as the sun is still raucous in the early afternoon, I give him a look, before throwing a pinecone.

“Oh, I don’t know… feeling a bit… gay maybe? Gay for Nico?” he drawls, too invested in playing the part of matchmaker, showering me in dandelion fluff. 

“Fuck you, what’s new?” I ask, flopping onto my back, waving the dust away.

“Well, maybe she likes you, huh?”

“What part of ‘Alex likes her’ don’t you understand?” leaning up on my elbows to see him better, ignoring the pricks from the tiny burrs and crabgrass.

“The part where they’re not dating.”

“And, oh, I don’t know, maybe also the part where she could maybe like you too, hmm? Ever think of that?” 

Quiet now, “We have nothing in common. We’re literally exact opposites.”

“Like, she’s all witchy and spells and dark clothes and rebellion and parents that are never around and I’m all…” I trail off.

“Mhm.”

“And I’m all art and drawing and bright colors and broken pieces that don’t quite fit together and she deserves so much better, someone like Alex who’s all smart and stuff and who’ll actually get it when she makes tech-y references and who’s, I don’t know, normal, I guess.” I close my eyes, “Because it doesn’t matter that she likes talking to me about those things or explaining them to me or how I actually care about them when she’s the one telling me even though if it was literally anyone else I would not care less, or how I like going to get ice cream with her even though I deeply dislike ice cream, or how I’m willing to go ice skating with her even though I’m afraid to, or how she hates Julie because at one point in time the thought of her made me sad, or how she’s nice to me even when it seems like she hates everyone else, or how she tolerates my love for books and my endless rants about things she doesn’t understand, or how she cares enough to ask how I’m doing or if I’m okay even though she knows I’ll either rant again or lie to her because she just cares about me for some reason, or how all of that is void because she will never care about me the way I care about her.” I open my eyes, sighing, staring up at the sky.

“Woah, that is a lot deeper than I thought you’d go.” Chase looks vaguely surprised. “I thought you’d just be like ‘yeah 10/10 would bang’ and then we’d move on, but like, damn okay.”

Now blushing, I cover my face with my hands, muttering, “Oh fuck off.”

 

~-~-~

 

I hate the way I feel. The thought of Alex as me, replacing the way I can feel her heartbeat and the weight of her arm around my waist and the gentle fingers running through my hair, makes me ache because I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m doing or what’s happening or how she feels about me or him or us or them because the image conjured in my mind of my body as his hurts. It hurts to think that this may mean nothing to her, that I may mean nothing to her. The possibility of her potential manipulation of me is…

“Tell me a story,” Nico says.

Used to this question and instinctively associating it with her, the corners of my mouth tip upwards, eyes still closed. As per usual I respond, asking, “About what?”

“Anything.” Leaning down to press lingering kisses on my face, the ghosts of residual warmth fade into my skin. Kisses on my forehead and eyelids and nose and the corner of my mouth, narrow my mind into a state of blankness. With quiet reverence and pulsing adoration, I breathe out, anticipating her gentle undoing. 

Shifting slightly, our faces align and, with my lips still parted from my exhale, she angles her head so that they touch. Faintly at first, she deepens it. Her tongue in my mouth, stroking tentatively, I whimper. Smiling, still pressed together, her arms tighten around me. Nails digging into my skin, I bite down on her lower lip, drawing it into my mouth. Bodies laid together on the grass, I pull back, hovering atop her, memorizing the way she looks tangled beneath me; eyes hazy, looking up at me like I’m the only person that matters, with black lipstick smeared everywhere. Letting her head drop back to the ground, stroking feather-light patterns across the back of my neck, she says softly, “I hope you realize you deserve to be happy.” She pauses for several moments, continuing even more quietly than before, “I wish I could make you happy. And that nothing ever made you sad…” 

Pounding in my head, a series of “what if’s” and “but maybe’s” because this is just a living, dripping watercolor of my dismay, filled only with echoes of her touch and her voice and everything that she contains. So, when her lips brush against mine I want to run, and hide, find a place where I’m not so exposed because I don’t know why I ever thought I could forget this, forget her, forget the way we touched like souls become one, my entire life a repeating sequence of letters shifting only to spell out the sounds of her name because I wish I could stay here forever, my body a cover to shield her from him, from they, from everything, a sun in the eye of its creator.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr or twitter or instagram or literally any social media @gaydepresso


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